


Temptations & Trepidations

by koschillski



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (let's be real when is he not oblivious), Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Drarry, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Harry is an empath, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Harry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Scars, bisexual!harry, draco is DONE with harry's shit, draco is annoying and he knows it, harry has a lot of issues he won't talk about, past-abuse mentioned, smut??? who knows (probably), y'all know im a sucker for that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16515029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koschillski/pseuds/koschillski
Summary: It's been five years since Harry Potter has heard or even seen Draco Malfoy, and that's suited each of them just fine. Harry's been off doing what he does best, catching Dark witches and wizards all over Europe, while Malfoy has all but disappeared from society doing who know's what in that big mansion of his. That is, until the Ministry forces the two together to work on a developing case, Harry being the lead Auror with Malfoy as a consultant. Their job: figure out who is attacking wizards all over Britain and why.Harry doesn't like it at at all, but they're both adults now and they should be able to put their own feelings aside for a short while in order to get the job done, simple really. Harry tries to be friendly, he really does, but anything that involves Malfoy never ends up being simple.





	1. Old Friends and New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time officially writing fanfiction, so I apologize for any mistakes and typos that may be found! Enjoy~!

It had been five years and twenty-three days since the Battle of Hogwarts. But it wasn’t like Harry was counting the days, not really, he just was only reminded of it every couple of months by people he worked with or just random witches and wizards he encountered in his everyday life. He knew they meant well, but after the first hundred or so times of it happening it became more difficult for Harry to seem upbeat rather than annoyed. He wasn’t too keen on being reminded of it all every time he walked out of his front door. War is a hard pill to swallow for anyone, but in his opinion, it was a harder thing to live with once the fighting was over. 

Throwing himself into his work seemed like a much better option to Harry than dwelling on his own shit, even if it was a tad bit reckless. Being an Auror was a dangerous job, especially after Voldemort’s second climb to power bringing about a new wave of trouble like moths to a lamp. 

Ron and he had only been partners for less than a year before Ron asked to be reassigned. He had told Harry that was nothing against him, but that the non-stop action just wasn’t suited for him anymore. Harry objected at first, but soon gave it up. There had been a distinct change in Ron after the switch that Harry simply couldn’t ignore. His best friend seemed happier at his new desk job within the department rather than out in the field. Harry respected Ron’s decision, but it meant that he almost never saw his friend in person. The majority of his missions consisted of him having to head out into the field more often than coming into the Ministry, and that saddened Harry a bit. 

Hermione had recommended months earlier that they should meet up at least once a week, if not more, at the Leaky Cauldron or someplace similar in order to stay in touch with each other. Over time it became their new tradition. Harry was being sent on more and more missions that were longer and a great distance away from home, so he had sent his fair share of owls to either of the two in order to reschedule on more than one occasion. He knew it was selfish of him, but he loved his job as much as he loved his friends, and he didn’t want to have to sacrifice time with one to accommodate the other. Harry truly felt like he had a purpose when he was in the throws of battle, facing off against some Dark wizard or witch who thought themselves above the law and that they could get away with whatever evil doings they plotted. 

For all that adrenaline and action, Harry was bound to get hurt once or twice. A broken ankle and a busted knee once on a mission in Romania (he had a bit of a tumble off of a rocky cliff with a Dark wizard he’d chased from London), his nose being broken so many times from fist fights that the bridge now had a permanent bump no matter how many times Hermione episkeyed it, and not to mention all the new scars that now called his body home. Most could be covered with clothing, but a few peaked out past his sleeves or collar. After a time, Harry just eventually gave up the hassle of hiding them. He had gained a new one on his most recent mission that started just above his right eyebrow and made its way down just past his cheekbone. It was created from a rogue hexing spell that bounced back towards him, which he only narrowly missed. Harry honestly felt more remorse for his glasses he lost during that encounter; they took most of the damage from the hex and were pretty much obliterated in the process. 

Pushing his new glasses back up on his nose, Harry walked quickly towards the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, tightly wrapping his arms around his middle in a failed attempting to keep warm against the biting wind. The frames on these glasses were thicker than the ones he had been used to, the lenses resembling more of a square rather than circles. He quite liked them, made him feel more like an adult, but he was still a tad bit insecure walking around. Shoving the thought aside, Harry opened the door and entered. He was greeted with the familiar smell of butterbeer and firewhiskey, warmth from the fireplaces within seeping through his sweater and coat as his eyes roamed around in search of his friends. 

A loud “Oi!” coming from his left caught his attention. Turning to the sound, Harry felt his face break out into a wide grin. Hermione and Ron eagerly waved at him as he made his way over to them. They were nestled in a booth placed in a more private corner of the pub, three pints of butterbeer in already front of them. 

“Oh, Harry! What have I _told _you about being careful!” Hermione exclaimed, eyes wide as she took in his face. He barely had a chance to wave over to where Ron was sitting before Hermione’s hands fluttered around him, turning him this way and that to inspect for injuries. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, she rather reminded him of Mrs. Weasley when she got like this.__

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Seeming satisfied with her search, Hermione pulled him down into the booth to sit next to her. Normally Harry wasn’t comfortable with people invading his personal space and grabbing him, but he knew how Hermione got when she was worried. Mild discomfort wasn’t a large price to pay in order to put someone who was practically like family at ease, so Harry simply just gave up trying to fight it.

“I think it’s rather brilliant,” Ron said as they walked up, “That and your new specs makes you seem more dark and mysterious. I’m sure the ladies will go absolutely ballistic.” 

“Or guys,” Harry teased, a chuckle escaping him as Hermione whacked her fiance's shoulder with rather frightening speed.

“Right, right. Sorry mate, sometimes I just forget.” Ron apologized, giving Harry a quick pleading glance while rubbing his now injured arm. 

“Buy me another round after this and all is forgiven.” Harry laughed, not at all offended by his best mate’s misstep. 

It had only been a year since he had officially come out to the two of them, and he knew the idea of him and Ron officially being brothers was a hard thing for Ron to let go of. He and Ginny had been broken up for a few years then, but Harry knew that his best friend still hoped they would somehow rekindle whatever it was they had. Hermione, on the other hand, told him that she always had an inkling but she waited until Harry told her on his own time. All the anxiety Harry possessed leading up until that moment about what they would say seemed to evaporate. He knew his friends would always stick by him through thick and then, but it was never easy for Harry to open up about something that set him apart as “different” given his upbringing. It took him awhile to come to terms with who he was, but once he did finally come to the conclusion that he was attracted to both men and women, it gave him a sense of balance he hadn’t possessed in his life for a long time. And contrary to some of his small earlier fears, things hadn’t changed between him and his best friends besides the occasional slip up here or there (normally from Ron, which was quickly followed with immediate apologies and Hermione somehow laying siege to some extremity, much to the redhead’s displeasure.)

They ended up sitting for hours, just chatting and catching up on the goings on in each of their lives. He loved what he did, there was no doubt, but sometimes he forgot how comfortable it was to just be surrounded by his best friends.

“Oh,” Hermione sat up, directing her gaze to Harry. “I nearly forgot to tell you. You’ll never guess who walked into my office at the Ministry this week.” 

Harry lowered his glass as he looked at her for a few seconds, thinking. He knew Hermione had some sort of leadership the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry, but beyond that Harry was utterly clueless. Seeing his lack of a conclusion, Hermione promptly waited until Harry took another sip from his pint before blurting out, “Draco Malfoy.” 

He choked on his drink, nearly spitting it all out on the table. Harry wasn’t sure on who he was expecting her to say, but it wasn’t… him. 

“You alright there mate?” asked Ron, raising an eyebrow at Harry’s reaction. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Harry could only nod. After finally collecting himself, Harry then asked why the man was there at the Ministry in the first place. 

“It was a surprise to be sure,” she started, her brow furrowing. “Did you know he’s a registered Potions Master? And quite a good one at that, if I read his paperwork correctly.” 

“Of bloody course he is,” Ron said bitingly, taking a large sip out of his already halfway drained glass.

“Talent is talent no matter who it comes from,” Hermione shrugged. “Apparently, some of the higher ups in the Ministry had requested his presence for something. He wouldn’t let anything slip when I tried getting it out of him as I was getting all the documents in order, but he was polite enough when we talked. Even made conversation,” she added, inciting surprise from all who were present. The Draco Malfoy _they _knew would never overlook an opportunity to gloat about something, especially where any of them were somehow concerned.__

____

____

“What would the Ministry need his input on?” Harry questioned, his mind trying to come up with some sort of explanation that made sense.

“A case maybe?” Ron offered. 

Harry could only shrug, none of the cases he’d come across recently had to do with potions. The only thing he had on his plate now was a fairly cut and dry case, a group of dark wizards sparratically attacking Muggles and wizards alike all over Britain. They called themselves the Legion and were under the command of a wizard named Bane Selwyn. Harry had been on the case for about a year now, and he knew Selwyn was the one pulling the strings behind the whole thing, but the bastard was a right genius in covering his tracks. The group had been quiet for a time, so all Harry could do at the moment was hope Selwyn slipped up and get caught before he got the chance to hurt anyone else.

“Well whatever it is,” Hermione said sternly,“I’m sure it’ll have nothing to do with us.” Ron nodded in agreement, but Harry only looked down into his glass.

 

 

After saying goodbye to his friends, Harry began his walk, or rather stumble, home. He lived in a flat a couple blocks away from the pub, so it was convenient when the weather wasn’t all that great or for when he had one too many drinks. Which, in this case, happened to be both. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed, the previous weeks traipsing through foreign cities nonstop on his last mission finally catching up with him. In his opinion, the flat he now rented suited quite well. It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an adequate sized kitchen and living area that made him feel that he could spread out, but gave him a comfortable cozy feeling as well. Harry had sold Grimmauld Place about two months after the war to some lovely young wizarding couple, who had two small children and another on the way. Hermione practically pitched a fit when she had found out, hollering about the history of the place being lost and its importance, but Harry could barely stand to walk into the gloomy house after everything. It brought back too many painful memories, and he knew the family who bought it would get much more use out of it than him.

As he got home and made ready for bed, Harry couldn’t help but dwell on the information he had been given earlier. Harry won’t lie; he had definitely thought about Draco Malfoy off and on in the last five years. But never did he expect to come into any contact with the wizard again, even if it was only second-hand. Just hearing the git’s name caused his stomach to flip uncontrollably, a feeling that only increased with the added alcohol that was now in his system.

The last he saw of the Malfoy heir was at his and his family’s trial after the war. He had spoken on the Malfoy’s behalf, telling in detail about Draco’s effort to save Harry at the Manor and Narcissa’s blatantly lying to Voldemort’s face for Harry. Whether their actions were motivated for selfish reasons or for the good of the wizarding world, Harry hadn’t cared either way. What mattered to him was that they did them, despite circumstances making it loads easier to do the opposite and save themselves the trouble of it all. He had voiced this opinion at the trial, apparently shocking those around him. Malfoy’s expression as he finished his speech was something Harry thought he would remember for the rest of his life. He had never seen the git who, at the time, looked like nothing more than a boy who was failing miserably at hiding that he was absolutely terrified beyond belief standing next to his mother, who looked about as put together as her son did.

It happened very quickly in real time, but in his own memory it all seemed to have gone in slow motion, lasting for what felt like hours. As Harry turned to leave the stand, he couldn’t help but shoot a glance toward the nemesis of his childhood as the verdict of rang out in the courtroom. A booming “Not guilty!” filled the air, causing a wave of thunderous noise and chatter to erupt. Malfoy’s mother had her eyes shut, gripping her son’s arm so hard her knuckles had gone white, a stellar feat for someone with already alabaster skin. Yet Malfoy seemed to take no notice of this. It looked as if his whole body had gone unnaturally rigid, his fists curled so intently they seemed to shake as his trained gaze nearly made Harry trip on his own feet in surprise. He knew Malfoy had been looking at him; he could practically feel the blonde glaring holes into his back as he gave his testimony, the hairs on his neck being raised the entire time. But what he wasn’t prepared for was the all the raw emotion that seemed to overwhelm and radiate off of Malfoy. Utter confusion, perhaps anger or shock, Harry was never really sure. Yet what stuck with him the most was the sight of something else, something entirely foreign and unnamable, twisting up Malfoy’s normally sharp features into an unrecognizable expression that’s since been burned into Harry’s memory. The dark grey eyes looking back him then, that before only looked at him in malice or distaste, seemed to belong to an entirely different person than the boy who had attended Hogwarts with him. They pierced straight through him and into his core, as if Malfoy was seeing something inside of him that Harry could not... Harry barely managed to find any words to describe it later on. Hermione and Ron had asked why he seemed much more unhinged, so he simply settled on calling what he had seen as ‘haunting'. Because he knew deep down that look in those eyes would end up haunting him within his mind, whether he wanted them to or not.


	2. The One Where Harry's Fantasies All Come Crashing Down Around Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to be updating as quick as I can, but finals are coming up at my university so my schedule may be a bit spastic. I wanted to get something out as quick as I could, so I apologize for this not being as long as the previous chapter. Not to worry though, chapter three will be longer! Also, comments and likes are like food for me.
> 
> Enjoy~!

The following morning found Harry generally hungover and annoyed. He had been woken up by a personal summons from Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister, to come see him as soon as possible due to some “urgent matter”. Before, Harry thought that he quite liked Shacklebolt. He was pleasant enough whenever the two would interact. But, his opinion of the man was quickly plummeting as he trudged into the Ministry, shrugging on his red Auror robes as he went. 

Today was the first time Harry had been off for months; he was _supposed _to be snuggled up in his warm bed at home right now, not walking into the Minister of Magic’s office. It must be of some importance, Harry thought as he knocked on the door before letting himself in. “Sorry for being late, sir. I was only just-” he stopped then, halfway into the room. Shacklebolt was seated at his desk in the middle of the room, but he wasn’t alone. Upon his hurried entrance the stranger’s head whipped around, revealing the disgusted face of one Draco Malfoy. Harry’s stomach practically dive bombed onto the floor.__

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“Oh, you’ve _got _to be joking me,” Malfoy spat, turning back to look accusingly at Shacklebolt, who was seated calmly at his desk. Slightly raising his voice, Malfoy shot a pointed hand back at Harry. “What is the meaning of this?” For once, both he and Malfoy were on the same, very confused, page.__

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“I can wait outside if you two were in the middle of something….” Harry offered, his eyes darting anxiously between the two, but Shacklebolt simply beckoned Harry over.

“It wasn’t a mistake that I’ve called the two of you here. Please, sit down.” The awkward atmosphere in the room was practically suffocating Harry. His leg started to nervously bounce as he sat in front of the Minister’s desk, waiting for some sort of explanation from the man. 

Shooting a quick glance at Malfoy, he could tell that the blonde was just as happy to be here as Harry was. What bugged Harry the most was that even while looking absolutely pissed, Malfoy still looked _good _. He was wearing dark dress robes over a smart looking tailored suit, his now long white blonde hair tied back with a black ribbon. The git always had sharp looking features, but as an adult it looked as if he had cheekbones and a jawline muggle models would kill over. As if sensing being gawked at, Malfoy turned and glared back at Harry.__

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“Before I begin to explain myself,” Shacklebolt started, leaning forward with clasped his hands on top of the desk. “I must place the _utmost _emphasis on the fact that whatever information you two may hear spoken in this room will stay a secret.” He waited to speak any further until he two men both nodded in silent agreement.__

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“Good. Now I’ve brought you both here because of a new development I’ve been recently informed about. If I’m being frank, the only reason why more people are not being notified about this is because my informants aren’t the most orthodox. But it concerns the individual cases you two are working on.” Shacklebolt spoke very matter-of-factly, Harry feeling his mind working trying to put the pieces together. 

“Um, sir? What do you mean by that?” Harry questioned, genuinely confused. “Last I checked, Malfoy was a Potions Master, not an Auror.” 

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me, Potter? I’m blushing.” Malfoy practically crooned, smugness radiating off him in waves. 

Harry realized how he worded that, and the implications of it. He could feel his cheeks becoming hot, but kept his eyes trained on the Minister. 

“That’s correct, Auror Potter.” Shacklebolt said. “But Mr. Malfoy is not only a Potions Master. His expertise in the field was the reason I sought him out in the first place, but the bureaucracy here made it nearly impossible for him to do what I asked without breaking any laws. So in an effort to make things go along smoother for everyone, Mr. Malfoy here has been made into an Unspeakable.” 

“Ah…” he responded, feeling a bit like a dunce. He was supposed to be a highly trained Auror, figuring things like that out was literally in his job description. “So what does Malfoy’s case have to do with mine? The Legion hasn’t made a move in months.”

Malfoy leaned forward in his seat then, studying Shacklebolt’s face. “You think they’re connected, don’t you?” 

Shacklebolt nodded. “My informants have gotten wind that certain forbidden magical ingredients have been in high demand on the Black Market, which normally would only cause slight concern. But, we’ve just got confirmation that a majority of the buyers are Legion agents that Auror Potter had previously unmasked in his earlier investigation.”

Harry sat back, his eyes widening in shock. “So that’s why they’ve been silent. I had assumed they had gone underground to plan for something, but this…”

“They haven’t been planning. They’ve been stocking up.” Malfoy said gravely. A heavy silence fell as they let the gravity the situation in. 

“Now you see the reason for why I’ve called you both here today. From now on, I want you two to work as a team to figure out what the Legion is planning, what they’re using these potion ingredients for, and when they’ll attack next.” Shacklebolt either was unbothered or didn’t care as both Malfoy and Harry shifted uncomfortably with the news. “You’ll answer directly to me. If anyone here asks you about it, report it to me immediately. No one outside of this room knows what I’ve told you, nor should they ever find out until all is said and done.” His tone left no room for argument or opposition. _So much for my day off _, thought Harry.__


	3. You've Been Assigned to Work with Your Childhood Nemesis, Now What?!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cancelled classes means I got to work on and finish a good chunk of this chapter and a bit of the next in about a day's time. Bless.
> 
> Also, for those who've left any of the kudos/comments so far, I literally love every single one of you. They've really motivated me while I was writing, so please keep them coming!!! 
> 
> Enjoy~!

With Shacklebolt’s standing orders still replaying in his mind, Harry tried to process it all as he lead Malfoy down to his office in the Auror’s department. They were quiet for a ways, the sounds of their footsteps echoing through the Ministry’s halls. Harry looked back at the man, his robes billowing behind him looking like some model for Witch Weekly. 

“So,” he started, his voice coming out a little louder than he originally intended. “You look better since the last time I saw you.” 

“Of _course _I look better, Potter.” Draco spat, his head held up in that infuriating holier-than-thou angle of his. “I thought I was headed to prison. I would think that give anyone the right to look a little disheveled.”__

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__

Harry rubbed his head, tousling his already uncontrollable hair, feeling even more awkward than before. The git had a point after all, and Harry didn't know how to follow up with any sort of conversation after that. Feeling flustered and all together put out, Harry just stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans and continued walking. None of the scenarios he had imagined had gone like this when they played out in his head. After years of staying up and thinking about what he would say if he ever came face to face again with Draco Malfoy, he found himself at a loss for words. So, Harry just gave up on the idea of a conversation all together. They returned to silence again as they entered the lift, Harry suddenly feeling very aware of the compactness and little space between them as he pressed the button for the correct floor. 

“You look better as well,” Malfoy said under his breath, his gaze quickly flittering to Harry before resuming their locked position of staring ahead. Harry stilled, his eyes widening as he looked at the blonde. Did that really just happen? Did _Malfoy _, of all people, really just compliment him? Surely, this had to be some sort of alternate universe he stumbled into, or some sort of dream. If it wasn't for standing so close to him, Harry would've probably not heard it at all. An unfamiliar warm feeling bloomed in his chest at the comment, and he could feel the tips of his ears starting to turn red.__

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“It’s truly a miracle that you got rid of those circular monstrosities you called glasses. Simply does wonders to your face, a step toward looking somewhat respectable. It was almost physically painful to even look at you in those when we were back in school.” 

Ah, there was the Draco Malfoy he knew. The feeling in his chest crumbled away then, only leaving disappointment and a bit of hurt in its wake. He wouldn’t lie, the blonde’s statement hit a bit of a nerve. “Thanks,” Harry deadpanned. “I chose them myself.”

“What, like you hadn’t chosen the ones before?” Malfoy set his gaze on him then, an incredulous expression formed on his face.

“No.” 

A beat of silence. Malfoy must have been waiting for some sort of explanation. Letting a sigh loose, Harry just only looked at the man. “Choosing was never really something I got to _do _as a child.” The blonde just stared at him, eyes searching his face. He thought Harry was having a go at him.__

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_If only he knew the half of it _, Harry thought. Even though he knew the git was just trying to get some sort of rise out of him, it only brought memories back that Harry would rather all together forget about his childhood. He knew his glasses weren’t the best, but they were the first thing the Dursley’s gave him that was his and his alone. As if sensing that there was more to it than he was letting on, Malfoy started to say something. A ding above them sounded off then, the lift doors opening signaling their arrival as well as a definitive end to their conversation.__

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Motioning for Malfoy to follow, the two made their way through the hectic atmosphere of the main Auror office. Countless reports flew past them at incredible speeds, all spelled to be sent off to different desks of high ranking Aurors, to be read through and filed away somewhere. One buzzed too close for comfort by Harry’s face as he waved over to Ron, who happened to be seated a few desks away from the Head Auror’s office. The redhead waved back happily, looking content amongst the chaos, but stopped abruptly when he saw who was trailing close behind his friend. Harry could only shrug, mouthing that he’d tell him later as he turned the corner which lead down a hallway containing his private office.

“Here I was thinking that your hair and clothes were the messiest part of your life. Now I see I stand corrected.” Malfoy looked about the room, looking unsure as to be either amused or disgusted at what surrounded him. To say it was ‘disorganized’ wouldn’t do the sight justice, because with files, some old rubbish here and there, and spare clothing strewn across different surfaces, it looked as if a rampant tornado had gone through it.

Harry felt sheepish about the mess and hurriedly kicked a rogue pile of clothes he had lying about under the sofa that sat against one of the walls, “In my defence, it doesn’t normally look like this. I haven’t been here in months, and when I did get around to come in, it would only be to grab a few supplies or to sleep.” Malfoy seemed unenthused with Harry’s justification, but he stayed quiet and waited as Harry frantically tidied things up. He finally shrugged off his dress robes, revealing in full the suit Harry had only gotten a glimpse at earlier and how snugly it was tailored to fit his body as he took a seat. Harry tried not stare at the man as he made his way to his desk. As he began pulling out the files he had created over time about the Legion, Malfoy crossed his legs and stretched out his arms across the top of the sofa looking like he owned the damn place. “Might as well get started, Potter. I don’t have all day.” A smug sort of smirk broke across Malfoy’s face as Harry rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long day.

 

 

 

Hours passed as they sat discussing Potter’s intel on the Legion, a rather dull name in Draco’s opinion, and their connection to the Selwyn fellow. He had come across the family name before, it being among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and there were only so many branches of those families one could encounter at any of the pureblood parties and events Draco had been forced to attend as a child. Draco knew all of the Sacred core and he could recite them and their extended families by name by the time was seven. 

But as for this Bane Selwyn in particular, he had never met the man in person or knew anything about him until today. That thought alone made him a far more suspicious character in Draco’s book, and Potter’s other theories about him and the Legion seemed to fit together all rather perfectly. But that was one opinion he would keep firmly to himself, no need for Potter getting a bigger head than the one he already possessed.  


Looking down at his pocket watch, Draco pursed his lips as he realized he was late for his meeting with his mother. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, my presence is demanded elsewhere.” Potter looked up from the papers he had been looking at, his brows furrowed as he looked at Draco gathering his things. “You’re leaving?” 

“Yes, that _is _what happens when one has somewhere else to be,” he retorted, adjusting his dress robes to lay perfectly.__

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“But we haven’t even begun to talk about what you know, or even make any sort of plan for that matter.” From the look Potter gave him, Draco would’ve thought he’d snatched up the last treacle tart right out of the man’s hands. But now wasn’t the time for Draco to dwell on the fact that he knew what Harry Potter’s favorite food was or the idea of his hands. Draco found a spare piece of parchment on the desk in front of him and used a quick accio for a quill. “Here,” he said, handing the paper to Potter, “my Floo address. Come by tomorrow around noon and we’ll talk then.” 

Potter’s fingers brushed against his own as he reached out and took the paper from Draco’s outstretched hand. Backing away from where Potter sat, glad that the oak desk served as some sort of barrier between them, Draco tried to steady his breathing. It took nearly all of Draco’s self control to not flinch back from the surprise contact. Potter’s touch had sent an electric jolt through him, causing Draco’s heartbeat to quicken its pace, his cheeks feeling hot. 

Potter, totally unaware of the landmine he just set off inside Draco, glanced down at the paper before placing it in his back pocket. “Yeah, I’ll do that. But, if you don’t mind me asking, what could be more important than this right now?” 

Potter’s truly one track mind was something that Draco didn’t think he ever could fully understand, and he almost laughed at how Potter seemed to believe himself privy to the private affairs of Draco’s life. But he felt the high wall of his defences start to unravel the longer he stared. The man’s face looked so genuinely bewildered, his head tilted slightly to the side like an adorable, confused dog. 

_Fuck _, Draco thought, _he can't possibly not know how adorable he looks right now _.____

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_____ _

Before he could stop himself, Draco found himself answering the git. “If you must know, I’m meeting my mother and one of her colleagues for tea, to discuss a few time essential things going on in our lives.”

“Really, _that’s _why you’re leaving? I’m sure your mother would understand if you cancelled, Malfoy.” Annoyance flashed across Potter’s face as he got up and walked towards Draco, his thick arms crossed in front of his equally muscular chest.__

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Draco mentally chastised himself, this was no time be ogling at the man. Potter stalked towards him, only stopping when he was too far inside of Draco’s personal space. Since they’d last encountered each other, Draco had grown to be several inches taller than the man, but even while having to look down to where Potter now stood, the former Gryffindor hadn’t become at all less intimidating over the years. “I think this case might top whatever it is you lot sit and chit chat about while sipping tea in your spare time.” 

The infamous and quick anger Draco had come to know very well as a student reared its head in Potter then, but Draco could only stare at him. His body feeling almost numb. “Potter…. You _have _read the Prophet recently, haven't you?”__

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“No, of course I haven’t.” Potter bristled at the question, looking at Draco like he was an idiot. “I’ve only just got back an international mission last night. Why?” 

“My father has died.” he answered, keeping his face devoid of emotion as he watched Potter’s reaction. “Murdered, actually, if we’re being technical about it. Two days ago.”

In an instant, Potter’s fury to dissolved into remorse, maybe even pity. “Oh,” he replied, his voice several notes softer than before. “I’m so sorry Malfoy.”

“Don’t _lie _to me, Potter,” Draco snapped, surprising both himself and the other man. “You and I both know that of all people, you couldn’t have cared less if he had rotted away in Azkaban. No need to for the Golden Boy of the wizarding world to strain himself on saying things he doesn’t mean.”__

____

____

“I may of not liked him all that much,” Potter admitted, a hand running through the ink black mess of hair that Draco's fingers itched to touch, “but he was still your father.”

“Indeed," he said, the tone of his voice cold, "it’s a fact I doubt I’ll ever _not _be reminded about.”__

__Feeling an intense need to break something, Draco turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving Potter where he stood.__

____

__On his way out, he could’ve sworn he heard an exasperated sigh and a “Way to fuck that one up, Harry” escape from Potter’s office, but Draco didn’t really care at the moment. He had a funeral to plan, and an emotionally wrecked mother to try to slowly piece back together._  
_


	4. Daddy Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by copious amounts of coffee, as well as a jam session to Mumford & Sons. Enjoy~!

“So,” Pansy asked him later that afternoon as he entered the Manor, “what did the Minister want?” 

Draco could only grunt instead of offering up a coherent response as he roughly sat down in one of the plush armchairs, his eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, a nasty headache beginning to brew. He had known the onslaught of questions would be firing as soon as he got back, but Draco had hoped it would’ve waited until after dinner.

Pansy and Blaise had been staying with Draco at the Manor for the past few days, the former announcing with great authority upon their entrance that it was “unfair” of Draco to live in such splendor and not share it with anyone else. It was a rather weak argument, but he knew they were only barging in, forcibly making themselves at home, because they didn’t want him to be alone after what had happened. Draco could only give them a small smile at the time, but they all knew how much he appreciated it. 

 

 

Draco had been living at the Manor with his mother, both of them sentenced to house arrest, before the trial took place that would decide their family’s fate. Lucius had been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban, with an opportunity for an appeal after five if he showed good behavior. Draco and his mother had gotten off scot free, all thanks to Potter. Yet, that still couldn’t fix the emotional damage that the war had created. His father was essentially dead to him, but he was aware that his mother still diligently wrote letters to the man every week, if not everyday. That sort of behavior, maybe even forgiveness for his father’s actions, was something Draco found he couldn’t understand from the woman who gave birth to him. He still fiercely loved her, probably more than anyone else in the whole world, and that would never change for Draco. But he found that he didn’t know how to speak to her anymore without that sense of betrayal lingering in the back of his head. The close knit relationship they once shared began to fade into nothing but a memory. 

They each found their own sort of solace in the Manor as time marched on, Draco with his potions studies in his lab in the West wing, his mother cooped up in her rooms with her books and letters in the East. A shaky sort of coexistence developed then, the only time they saw each other being meal times. Conversation was scarce, and if it occurred at all, was stilted at best. But that had all changed with the news of his father’s demise.

In truth, the his father’s death came as a shock to him once he heard the news. To sever a relationship was one thing, but to have that person be taken from you by force was another. The initial anger he felt towards his father had begun to fade over time, and thoughts of maybe reaching out became more frequent to Draco during the months leading up to his father’s death. 

It was ironic in a sense, that just as soon as he began to want his father back, the universe tore him away before Draco even got the chance. If there was one saving grace Lucius had possessed, it was the fierce love he held inside of him for his wife and son. It was nearly impossible for Draco to see it properly at the time, but as an adult Draco could see that what Lucius Malfoy did he did to protect his family. That fact doesn’t excuse the severity of his actions, but it just made the loss of the man all the more raw for Draco. The last time he had seen his father, he had lashed out in anger and said he never wanted to see the man again. When was the last time he had told his father that he loved him? Draco couldn’t remember, and it just left him feeling hollow.

He had known his mother’s grief was tremendous, but he could’ve never had imagined that it was truly as great as it was. Draco’s world had truly started to come crumbling down around him, and it all began when his mother left him. 

“It’s too tainted, Draco,” she had explained, frantically stuffing her belongings in all sorts of luggage strewn about her bedroom, “I can’t live here anymore after all that’s happened. I just see _him _everywhere, and I can’t bear it anymore.” Draco tried to reason with her, but Narcissa Malfoy was never the sort of woman to give up on something once she set her mind to it. She had taken up residence in one of their holiday estates in Paris, claiming the warmer weather would do her good. The whole thing left Draco feeling numb. But in the end he had let her go, even if it felt like she was ripping away piece of him as she walked away from her son and the home they once shared. In one day, Draco had lost _both _of his parents. A few tears had escaped him as he watched his mother’s figure disappear into the centuries old conjured fog that wrapped around the border of the estate, the immense loneliness and pain he had been ignoring now his only companion.____

____ _ _

____He had thought about following in his mother’s steps and just leave. But, Draco just couldn’t bring himself to leave the Manor. It was his childhood home, with hundreds of years of Malfoy history embedded within its white walls. With her gone, Draco felt like a ghost haunting the halls of the Manor, it’s former life and exuberance having been snuffed out._ _ _ _

____It was an unspoken truth between the trio of former Slytherins, but their presence had relit the flame that was Draco Malfoy. Pansy and Blaise both saw how much pain he was in, and knew that if they didn’t do something, Draco would most likely shoulder all that weight alone until it ultimately destroyed him._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____Pansy and Blaise had been sitting, for Merlin knows how long, playing cards in the front room overlooking the gardens. From the looks of it and the smug expression on his face, Blaise was currently winning. But experience had taught Draco to always be wary of Pansy, she almost always had more than one trick up her sleeve that she masked with a sweet smile._ _ _ _

____Sighing, Draco dropped his shoulders as he let the day’s events properly weigh on him. “You’ll never guess who it is they’re making me work with.”_ _ _ _

____Pansy glanced up at him then, while placing a card down on the table with a perfectly manicured hand. Blaise took a second to glance down at the card, but his face quickly soured as he smacked his cards down, muttering all sorts of sordid explexictives. _Never bet against Pansy _.___ _ _ _

______“Do tell, Draco dear, you know how much I love a good bit of gossip,” she purred, her attention firmly caught by the lure of juicy information. “Blaise, darling, stop frowning so much. No one likes a sore loser.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaise only shot his girlfriend a dark look, Pansy dramatically blowing him a kiss in response, before getting up to help himself to one of the full wine glasses the house elves placed for them._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wine, Draco?” his deep voice reverberating off of the marble walls, “You look like you could use one. Or maybe three.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Draco let out a little laugh, thinking about five would be more accurate. He thanked the man as Blaise handed him a glass before taking up a place lounging on one of the adjacent velvet chaises. Taking a sip, Draco savored the taste of the red liquid on his tongue._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Go on and tell us, Draco,” Pansy prodded, making her way from her seat at the card table to sit on Blaise’s outstretched lap. “Don’t tell me it was Granger or one of the Weasleys.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh no, it’s _worse _. It’s Harry bloody Potter.”___ _ _ _ _ _

________Taking a rather large gulp, Draco ignored the cackle of laughter that erupted from Pansy. “Draco, dear, I’m so sorry but that’s positively the best thing I’ve heard all week! Do keep us updated on how you and the Boy Wonder get on. My bet is that you’ll last a week before one of you strangles the other Or _worse _.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Blaise kept quiet, his familiar and all too knowing eyes staring back into Draco’s. The man’s silence spoke volumes; he had a talent for letting you know exactly what he thought without uttering a single word, something Draco had grown incredibly jealous of. Where Pansy showed her affection with teasing, Blaise was a stoic, constant presence for Draco to lean on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“How is Potter, by the way?” she added, a mischievous twinkle emerging in her dark eyes as she began mindlessly petting Blaise’s arm around her waist. _Ugh, where they always this disgustingly touchy? _It soured Draco’s mood even more.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You know very well how he is Pansy,” he barked, “so why ask me about it? He’s the least of my worries right now. In case you’ve forgotten, my father has been _murdered _.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Of course I hadn’t forgotten, Draco. It’s not everyday that the great Draco Malfoy leaves the comforts of Malfoy Manor, let alone come across the Boy-Who-Lived on that very _same _day.” Pansy narrowed her eyes him, venom dripping in her voice. “Do forgive me for inconveniencing you so. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut next time.” Standing up, she curtly excused herself from the conversation. Her black pumps clicked as she sauntered away from them, most likely to break something of Draco’s.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Draco sighed, a feeling of shame overwhelming him. He knew that lashing out at one of his oldest friends made him seem more like an arsehole than he already was, but the whole damned thing was just _too _much for him to handle at the moment.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________With his father’s death, his mother’s complete emotional wreckage over the incident, and this case he was now thrown into, there was literally no room in Draco Malfoy’s head to deal with the Golden Boy’s resurgence into his life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He wanted, more than anything, to just _not _think about bloody Potter for one second. It was a lost cause though, and some part of him knew it too. Draco knew what trying to not think about Harry Potter ultimately led him to ー endless images of tousled inky black hair, piercing green eyes and flashy, absurdly bright, smiles plaguing his mind.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“You don’t have to do any of this alone, you know that right?” Blaise spoke quietly, “Pans and I are always here for you, Draco. She’s only mad because she cares.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Draco was pulled from his thoughts by the sheer tenderness of his friend’s voice. Blaise was looking at him, as if he was able to witness the waves of turmoil that Draco was slowly suffocating him. Unable to find the words to rebuff Blaise’s statement, he felt himself deflate. All the earlier anger and frustration he felt faded away, leaving only the bone deep exhaustion Draco felt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Blaise gave him one last lingering look before getting up to follow Pansy, stopping to squeeze a firm hand on Draco’s shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“I’m sure Potter wasn’t as bad as think. I’ve seen some of the recent photos in the Prophet. The git looks rather fit, don’t you think?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He could only let out a half excuse for a laugh, the easy camaraderie between him and Blaise setting his nerves._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Yeah… yeah he did.” Draco admitted, looking up at the dark face looking down at him, a ‘I-told-you-so’ grin plastered across his face. “But that DOESN’T mean anything!” he hollered as his friend strolled away, laughing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“No one said it did!” Blaise’s clear voice carried through the house, and Draco felt himself smiling. Finishing the contents in his glass, Draco got up feeling better than when he had sat down, and made his way to his laboratory/study. He wouldn’t think about whatever it was he just admitted out loud, Draco had more important things to do. Like all the work that awaited him if he was to properly prepare for his guest tomorrow. That is, if the git in question even remembered to come at all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I'm not gonna lie. The part addressing Lucius's death actually got to me a bit *sniffles* and I may or have may not let the feels run rampant as I wrote.


	5. Be Our Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhhh my god it's been forever since I've lasted updated. Please don't hurt me *cowers in the corner* I promise to update more regularly in the future!
> 
> Seriously though y'all, comments are like sustenance to me TT^TT

Punctuality was never a strong suit for Harry, no matter how hard he tried to be on time. He always ended up late for things, running in breathless and spouting all sorts of apologies. Like right now. And he wasn’t just late to a meeting with his coworkers. No, it just _had _to be with Draco Malfoy, and the fact that he was already an hour late was just the icing on the cake. Stashing his wand in its holster on his arm, Harry rushed through the floo. The next thing he knew, he found himself colliding into a very disheveled looking and a surprised Blaise Zabini.__

__“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t see you there.” he spluttered, his hand reaching up to adjust his glasses back into place. Harry hadn’t been expecting Zabini to be there, of all people. If anything, he had been thinking that a different sort of welcome would be greeting him upon his arrival. One that involved a more annoyed, lanky blonde taking the opportunity to chastise him on his shortcoming._ _

__“Always one to make an entrance, aren’t you Harry?” the man laughed, tying a knot in his rather plush looking robe before crossing his arms. Blaise Zabini was not someone thought he’d see again after they all left Hogwarts. And was he… was he in pajamas? Had Harry floo’ed to the wrong house? That would be just his bloody luck._ _

__Looking down at the piece of parchment in his hand, an address scrawled in fancy cursive upon it, Harry swore to himself. “I must have gotten the address wrong, I’m so sorry agai─”_ _

__“If you’re here to see Draco, then you’re at the right place.”_ _

__His face must’ve been reflecting the confusion he felt, because Zabini just shot him an amused expression, similar to how Harry regarded his godson Teddy as the toddler spouted some gibberish animatedly._ _

__“Gawking doesn’t become you, Potter. Though I will take it as a compliment, my good looks _are _known to leave people at a loss for words.”___ _

____Zabini slyly grinned as he strolled past him, an easy confidence rolling off of him and his set back shoulders in waves, and headed towards a table on the other side of the room. Varying platters of brunch food and pitchers of all sorts of drinks were set about it, a splendid spread that could easily rival, if not exceed, any of the meals he had experienced back at Hogwarts. But Harry was just as likely to admit that to anyone as he was to try to plant a kiss on Professor McGonagall._ _ _ _

____In all honesty, he hadn’t noticed it when he first arrived, his attention firmly occupied by almost running someone over. But now as he looked on, he felt his stomach begin to rumble. The smell of freshly baked bread and meats rose off of the table were beckoning Harry to come take a bite._ _ _ _

____“Care for a meal? There’s plenty to go around,” Zabini offered over his shoulder, “You always were the type to look like they could use a good meal or two in them.”_ _ _ _

____Harry’s cheeks flushed instantaneously, partly because of his embarrassment from the whole spectacle this was becoming and partly because of how accurately the former Slytherin hit the nail on the head, whether he meant to or not. But he was not one to be impolite, so Harry pushed the thought away in his head as he eagerly made his way to, what he hoped was, some sort of platter of strawberry crêpes._ _ _ _

____An odd sort of comfortable silence fell between the two men for a short while as they each dug into the plates of food in front of them. Harry started to feel very out of place among the finery, his movements clumsy in comparison to Zabini’s, who made even eating look like some sort of graceful dance. _Are all Slytherins this prim and proper? _thought Harry, looking at the man sitting across from him like he was some sort of zoo animal. _It would surely explain why they’re all uptight all the time.____ _ _ _

________Smiling to himself as he chewed on his food, which tasted better than anything Harry had ever had before, unfortunately. Harry felt oddly content there with Zabini seated on a low, odd looking couch a few paces away from him as he leaned back against the fine marble wall. It was at that very moment that a rather frustrated looking Pansy Parkinson stomped her way into the room. Her ink black hair, which Harry remembered she kept cropped short, had grown to reach just past her shoulders. But that was all that had changed about the woman, she still looked as young and as fresh-faced as any teenager. He wondered if that was a natural phenomenon or was bestowed upon her by certain cosmetic spells and potions. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to do nowadays, loads of witches and wizards opted to seek a magical solution in their battle against time, but there were definitely cases of certain outcomes being better than others. In Parkinson’s case (if there was a case at all) it was most definitely one of the better ones._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“He’s been in that blasted room since we saw him last and won’t listen to a word I say on the matter,” she fumed aloud, commandeering all of the attention in the room. “And I swear to you, Blaise, if I find out that he placed a muffilato spell on me I will wring his sorry neck.” Parkinson grabbed herself one of the croissants near the end of the table, and took a rather fierce bite out of it, chewing like it was the bread that had offended her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Harry gulped. He had never seen her this angry before, if anything, it reminded him of whenever Hermione hit a boiling point and started popping off at either him or Ron. The normal, and safest, course of action would be to just make himself scarce and let the whole thing blow over. But the option of escape was soon snuffed out completely._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“That’s all very well, Pansy, but let’s not air our grievances out in front of a guest.” Zabini sighed, darting a very pointed look at Harry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“A what now?” Parkinson turned, her expression twisted in what Harry would think was a sneer, but he honestly never knew with this lot. A sneer might be to them what a blank face was to everyone else. But whatever her face held dropped very quickly when her dark eyes met with Harry’s. “Oh.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Uh, hullo there.” Harry lifted a hand awkwardly, not really feeling sure on what to do. “How’ve you been?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Parkinson raised a sculpted eyebrow at him, her hand going to rest on her hip. “Seeing as we’ve been ostracized by the whole country and have been forced to live abroad until now, I’d say it’s been rather _peachy _.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Harry dropped his hand back into his lap. “Yeah… sorry about that. But to be fair, you _did _kind of suggest that I be handed over to Voldemort, so it’s not like it was out of nowhere.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“And trying to save myself and my friends from unnecessary bloodshed warrants my family and I to be run out of our very home?” Parkinson’s voice dripped with resentment as she looked down her nose at Harry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Well, no. But it’s not like what you did was all that compassionate, so I can’t really blame them for not trusting you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Brutal honesty had a tendency to just flow out of Harry’s mouth, whether he wanted it to or not, and sometimes he wondered if it would ever get him socked in the face. For instance, like right now. Parkinson glowered at him, her face was dark and had the unmistakable I-will-punch-you-into-next-week expression all over it. Harry may or have may not taken a few steps back in an ill-attempt at escape._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Compassionate?” She seethed, her eyes narrow. “It’s not like I owed the Boy-Who-Lived or anyone else any sort of _compassion _, because I’ll be damned if I try to stick my neck out for someone who had never once done anything compassionate, as you call it, for me.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Harry could only look down at his feet as her words sunk in. He hated to admit it, but she wasn’t wrong. Why would she have tried to help him back then? If anything, he had specifically pretended like she hadn’t existed back when they were at Hogwarts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________A tense silence befell the room then; Parkinson looking tense and ready to attack at any moment, Harry feeling a tad bit guilty, and Zabini drinking a glass of champagne looking slightly bored by the whole thing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Now play nice, dear,” Zabini chidded from his seat, “the Golden Boy hasn’t come to lecture us on our morality. He’s here to see Draco.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Oh?” she responded as she looked back at Harry, her eyes looking him up and down like he was some good to be appraised at the market, “Could this a social call for our darling Draco or does it have something to do with why he was called in by the Ministry yesterday?” Genuine interest now replaced the condescending tone she had from before. The heavy atmosphere from before had all but vanished, giving Harry a rather dizzying feeling._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________In the presence of Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. It’s not like he could help it, it was just something about them made him uneasy. They both had this way about themselves that made him feel like he was some sort of experiment the were studying under a microscope._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He fiddled his hands a bit, thinking about what he would say as an adequate answer. Too many questions were going through his mind at the moment. Like, why were both Parkinson and Zabini at Malfoy’s home? Was Malfoy even here? Could he just lie about the reason he’s here to throw them off? And _why _was he so worried about how to answer these people?___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He opened his mouth to begin some sort of reply, but was cut off by Parkinson’s raised hand. “You know what? I don’t want to know. Last time I tried to pry into his business, the brat almost bit my head off.” She remarked, as she made her way to where Zabini sat. Putting her feet up in the man’s lap, Parkinson leaned back into the cushions as she eyed Harry, “You two can keep your dirty little secrets for now, but I will find out what it’s about.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He had to give it to her, Harry had never seen someone go from such intense anger and resentment to a cool, mildly interested tone. If she went through such poignant mood swings like this all the time, he had to wonder how no one who spent more than five minutes with her didn’t have some kind of whiplash._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“You’re free to guess at whatever you like,” he shrugged, “but it’s confidential Ministry business.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________She simply waved off his excuse. “As if I would leave it at that. ‘Confidential Ministry business’ is just code for there’s something juicy going on and they don’t want anyone to know about it yet.” Parkinson sat up, a gleam in her eye. “Let’s make a bet on what it is, shall we Blaise? Fifty galleons that it has something to do with those killings that were in The Prophet the last few months.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Zabini calmly eyed her, a slow and sly smile spreading across his face. Both were completely ignoring Harry, who had begun to grow increasingly more uncomfortable than he already was with every passing second._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Make it a hundred and you have a deal.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________A slight sense of dread began to fill him as he watched the two former Slytherins lean in close and whisper amongst themselves. He already had a ton of shit to deal with, first with the Legion, and then with Malfoy, and now he had to deal with these two and their meddling? Was this some sort of cruel trick the universe decided to play on Harry? Hadn’t he done enough for the world to maybe get a little slack every now and then? No. Of course not._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Harry’s mini pity party he was throwing for himself was abruptly ended when a thunderous blast erupted from down the hall, practically shaking the whole house. All three of them instantly jumped to their feet, wands at the ready as they faced where the explosion had come from. By the looks of it, neither Parkinson or Zabini knew what was happening. That just put Harry even more on edge. Had there been some kind of attack? Wasn’t the Manor known for its practically impregnable wards?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Panic started to overtake Harry as his Auror trained mind ran through all the possible scenarios. Had it been the Legion? If so, how did they know he was on to them and that he was even here? And most importantly, where the _fuck _was Malfoy?!?___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	6. From Ashes to Ashes, From Dust to Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh this was such a fun chapter for me to write AND we finally get a bit into the mature rating for this fic near the end, so be ready for that. It's also my first time writing any sort of smut in fanfiction, so please don't be too harsh! 
> 
> Comments about any and all thoughts you might have on the chapter, or what you think might happen, are welcome. On that note, please enjoy~!

__

Things were going very, very wrong. 

__

__

 

Absolutely nothing was going the way Draco had originally intended, and his aggravated frustration was ultimately getting the better of him. Maybe that was the reason why he accidentally added too much powdered root of asphodel to the potion he was brewing, or maybe it was just that he had gotten the damned recipe wrong again. He had been at this particular potion recipe for hours, forgoing sleep the night before because he could feel that he was just _this _close to cracking the damn thing once and for all.__

__

__He had determined about a month ago that one of the main potions that the Legion was getting their shadowy hands on was a rather distorted version of a Draught of Living Death, made to give the effect of the pain experienced by the Cruciatus curse before rendering the drinker in a semi-permanent coma like state. The sinking feeling that accompanied this realization throughly unsettled Draco, and he told as much to the Minister upon bringing the man his findings._ _

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__\-------------_ _

__

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__“It’s a form of intense torture, and a despicable one at that.” Draco had spat, laying all his research down for Kingsley Shacklebolt to examine. “Why someone would create such a morbid hybrid of a potion is beyond me.”_ _

__

__“Most likely the purpose behind it is to cause the most damage while having absolutely no traces being left behind to link them to the crime.” the Minister sighed, a deep exhaustion seeming to overtake the man’s whole being. “Is there any sort of antidote for this that you know of?”_ _

__

__Draco could only shake his head solemnly, “Not that I’m aware of. It seems that they’ve only just recently managed to get the recipe for it right, even I’m struggling in my efforts to try and figure out the correct proportions of the different ingredients. Until I have that perfected, there’s no possible way for me to experiment on which potions or ingredients have the appropriate means to counteract the effects. We’re in completely uncharted territory.”_ _

__

__It was a daunting situation, to put it lightly. With every passing minute that Draco wasn’t figuring out how the bastards did it, the higher the probability that they were already in the process of perfecting their findings to wreak unknown havoc on the wizarding community. And Draco had this gut feeling that he just couldn’t shake; this potion was the one that would act as the key to unlocking the other hybrid concoctions they were brewing for their nefarious schemes. Time was not on their side at the moment, and Draco was itching to get out of the stuffy office of the Minister and back into his lab. It was that moment when a bumbling Harry Potter bursted through the dark oak doors and threw a wrench into everything, as always._ _

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__\--------------_ _

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__But Harry Potter was the least of his problems at the moment. The biggest one at the moment was the rapidly gaining plume of smoke that was currently erupting from his cauldron. Draco only had the chance to utter a faint curse before turning his body away in a last ditch effort of getting the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to happen. A deafening boom went off, the power of the explosion actually forcing him to the ground, his breath getting knocked out of him as he landed oddly on his side. Lifting his head from the ground, Draco felt himself go into panic mode as he was met with the sight of his lab catching on fire, the flames varying between a deep purple and dark gray. If he had turned a second later, Draco didn’t think he would have been able to save the skin on his face from melting off. As quickly as he could manage, he went about extinguishing the flames like a crazed madman. If any of the ingredients he had lining the walls either caught fire or got too overheated, another explosion was going to be the least of his worries._ _

__

__Sensing the danger had passed once he put out the last of the flames, Draco looked down at himself. His clothes were absolutely ruined beyond repair. The side of his white dress shirt that was closest to the explosion had burned away, leaving a gaping hole. His exposed skin peaked out from behind the now dark, crisp edges. The dress pants he had put on hadn’t come out of the incident much better, all sorts of soot and residue caked his legs. Even the palms of his hands were almost entirely black, either from the residue of the smoke that engulfed the room or from the now burned remains of his potion. No doubt his face was covered in soot as well, if his hands and clothes were any indignation. Draco took a moment to just stand there in the middle of the room, looking hard at what remained of his well worn charcoal cauldron, now just a cracked and crumbling mess._ _

__

__Maybe this was some sign that he needed to take a break, a hand shown to him by some divine intervention. Merlin knew he needed to rest, but how could he quit when he had been so close? Looking about his now charred laboratory, Draco couldn’t help but feel all together thwarted and annoyed. It felt like in his efforts to try to get on the same level as Bane Selwyn and his band of slimy miscreants, he just ended up literally blasting himself back, weeks of work now gone._ _

__

__“Fuck this,” he bitterly muttered, and turned on his heel to go head to his rooms. Draco was ready to completely give up on this wretch of a day and allow himself the afternoon to sulk. There was also no doubt in his mind that both Pans and Blaise heard the explosion earlier, and undoubtedly had questions. But Draco just didn’t care all that much to go explain himself to his friends. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and in desperate need of a shower. _This day couldn’t get any worse _, he thought.___ _

____ _ _

____Just as Draco was about to reach for the door, the blasted thing whipped open with a surprising amount of force, directly whacking him in the face. Upon impact, his nose made an unmistakable _crunch _sound, and the presence of a thick and warm liquid made itself be known as it began to drip down. _Actually, yes it could _._____ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jutting his head up and putting a hand to his nose, Draco had lost all patience and was ready to bite someone’s head off. “What the fuck?!?!” he hollered, but it just came out all distorted and barely comprehensible. Whirling around, Draco was met with the crazed look of Harry Potter, who apparently thought it would be a splendid idea to _fucking kick the door open _. If his laboratory wasn’t already in shambles, Draco would have the mind to wholeheartedly tell the man off and then inspect for any boot prints on the door.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What happened? What was that explosion?” The authoritative tone took Draco back to his youth, to a time when he had been accosted by the same man but for very different answers to different sorts of questions. Already both instances left Draco bloodied. But this time, Potter’s wand wasn’t pointed at Draco, but rather like he was ready to perform a counter attack spell at any moment in Draco’s defense. The sight ended up sending a slight thrill through Draco. So, this was how Potter looked when he was out in the field. “And.. wait, why are you bleeding?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The thrilled feeling Draco had was now gone. Irritation had replaced it, and maybe some slight embarrassment, but mostly just annoyance. “Because someone fucking kicked a door into my face, you git!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Potter’s ears turned a deep shade of red as he just shrugged in Draco’s direction, a feat that was quickly abandoned as he all but strutted into the room. That was it? Either Draco was now being plagued with another form of Potter’s ego rearing its ugly face or it must be the Gryffindor version of an adequate apology, either way was bordering on barbaric. Utterly unthinkable._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Now is when any polite person would offer to episky this for me. Or is that too much out of your regular wheelhouse of spells?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh, yeah sure.” Potter shrugged. _Instead of the Boy Who Lived _, Draco thought, _he should be called the Boy Who Shrugged _. _It would describe him much more accurately _._____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________His inner ramblings were interrupted when Potter cast the healing spell. Despite his efforts, Draco couldn’t help but wince a bit when the cartilage lodged itself back into place. The noise was sickening, and Draco had never been one that could stomach things like that. It was part of the reason why he became the epitome of disappointment, much to his aunt’s and the Dark Lord’s displeasure._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________A light chuckle escaped the other man, “I think this may be the first time I’ve cast this spell on someone else.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“If you’ve somehow ruined my face I can guarantee you that this room won’t be the only thing left in cinders.” he growled, fully intending to follow through with his threat. There wasn’t much he had left besides his looks and his family’s money after the war. It was shallow of him, and he knew it, but Draco wouldn’t let those be taken from him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Potter just waved the warning off as he stuffed his wand back into his jacket, his bright green eyes looking anywhere but in Draco’s direction. “Don’t go and get your knickers in a twist, Malfoy. It looks as good as it usually does.” He found that he could only stare back at Potter as his heart gave a very undignified jump in response. Potter’s gaze shifted back to his face then, apparently not realizing what it was he said and the implications it held. Eyes widening, Potter’s cheeks flamed as the mortification sunk in.“Not that it’s all that great to begin with. I just meant… well, you know what I meant.” Potter ran a hand through his mess of curls, clearly embarrassed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Flustered was never an emotion that Draco thought he would see on Harry Potter, and he would admit that some small part of him thoroughly revelled in the idea that he caused the man to lose his footing in such a way. All he wanted as a teenager was to get such a rise out of the golden boy of Gryffindor, and yet he had gotten it without any sort of his normal prodding. If only his younger self could see him now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Anyway, that’s not the point. What exactly happened in here?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Your deductive skills truly amaze me, it’s a wonder you made it pass Auror training.” If this was the best of the best the Ministry had in their service, Draco had to drastically reconsider how safe he felt. In all honesty, it wasn’t like he was high on any safety list anyway. More like the opposite, but that was a problem for another day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Clearly, one of the potions I had been working on backfired. Very badly.” Draco deadpanned, gesturing to what was left of his beloved laboratory. “You’re free to inspect in here if you think I’m lying, but if you don’t mind, I’m more inclined to get cleaned up than to babysit you at the moment.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Making his way out into the hallway, Draco headed for the grand staircase. He shot a quick glance towards the forms of Blaise and Pans, who both took in his appearance and promptly made their presence scarce. Pansy, in particular, shot him a look that said an explanation of some sort was definitely going to be made later.Thankfully, his friends knew when to give the blonde his space. Something he couldn’t say for nearly everyone occupying the Manor that day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Really? You’re going to go take a shower this instant?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Looking back, Draco realized that Potter had followed him out, being practically on the back of his heels the entire time. Good lord. Had the git been some sort of labrador retriever in a past life?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Yes, another stellar observation from you. I’m all for minimizing the time we have to share in each other’s company, but I’m afraid most of my clothing has been seared off. So,” he turned and gave a pointed look at Potter, “it’s only proper that I at least change into something more adequate.” By this time, they had already begun their approach to the door to Draco’s bedroom. “And if I may once again point out, my lab has been torched. Admittedly, that was by my own doing. But any sort of discussion concerning the case that we had went up in flames with the majority of my supplies.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Harry’s face twisted into a skeptical expression. “You’re serious? This isn’t some sort of scheme of yours again?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Draco wanted to thrust his head into the wall, repeatedly. That would’ve been easier than trying to get anything through this brute’s thick skull. “My apologies for disappointing you, but the whole of my existence isn’t to inconvenience you. Though that’s an idea I can always pursue if this predicament we find ourselves in goes asunder, at least one of us will get a kick out of it.” Draco felt his mouth smirk as the disgust on Potter’s face emerged. “If anything, think of this as us being even now.” Opening his bedroom door, Draco turned and gave one last look at the man behind him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Even for what?” It’s like he was talking to a child. Could Potter really be this dense all the time, or was he purposely this difficult because he knew how much it irked Draco?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“For you being a few hours late, Potter, so run along go wait for me downstairs. That is, unless this is you saying you wanted to join me in the shower...” Draco offered, raising his eyebrow. The speed in which Potter turned and shot down the stairs before he could have the satisfaction of closing the door in his face was comical. “Clearly not. Pity.” Draco chuckled to himself as he shut the door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Despite his personal qualms with it, Draco’s trousers began to tighten around his crotch as the image of what Harry Potter was like in the shower filled his head. Thank Merlin he was in the privacy of his room, just the faintest possibility of the subject of most of his fantasies witnessing him getting a boner was too much for Draco to bear. In a hurry, he strode into his bathroom while tossing his tarnished clothes to the floor. He didn’t even wait for the water to heat up, instead just jumping into the standing shower immediately. The water, going from frigid to a more preferable level of scalding hot, grounded him as it washed away the ash that covered his body. Dropping his head against the tile wall in front of him, Draco gave in to his more carnal desires, the steam from the water filling the bathroom and making the air sticky.Even if he could never have the real thing, he was content with just having the idea of what it could be like. Or at least that’s what he repeated to himself every time he wanked off with Potter’s everything in his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Like how ridiculously well he looked after all these years, looking even better than what Draco had imagined. Potter’s bright green eyes that still shined behind the rims of his glasses, full of all sorts of mischief and emotions that Draco could lose himself in. The cut of his chin, the way his hair curled behind his neck and at his temples that drove Draco as mad as he had been back at school. Just being in the git’s presence was intoxicating to him; the way he stood, the way he crossed his arms over his chest, the way he bit his lip when he was deep in thought and had no idea anyone was looking. It all nearly ruined Draco years ago and was just about to start to ruin him again now. With each maddening thought, things from what Draco felt of the boy he knew started to now merge with what he saw of the man, his hands moved along his cock faster and faster. The entirety of his body felt tense as he climbed closer to his climax. Finally, it was the memory of the look on Potter’s face when he accidentally let the compliment about Draco’s face slip that pushed him over the edge. Releasing a strained sigh as he orgasmed, Draco slumped back with a thud as exhaustion from the day, the whole fucking month if he was honest, overtook him. This was as good as it was going to get for Draco, and that was a fact that he needed to accept. No use in letting false hope get the best of him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Deciding that he had been in there for longer than normal, Draco turned the water off and stepped out, his toes curling as they met the cool surface of the tiles beneath him. As he changed into a new set of clothes, a thin black sweater and similar dress pants to the ones he was wearing before, Draco couldn’t help but let his mind wander into dangerous territory._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________For one thing, Potter wasn’t interested in blokes to begin with. And even on the very slim chance that he was, Draco would be about as high on his shagging list as the Weasel would be. As he put on his shoes again, Draco shuddered. The idea of sex and the Weasel coexisting at the same time was _not _something he wanted to dedicate any space in his brain to.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Spelling his hair into his preferred style, Draco let himself ponder on the subject for a moment longer. The thought of anything more besides staying somewhat cordial, maybe even something akin to being friendly, between him and the Boy Who Lived would be as likely to happen as it would be to destroy the Dark Mark that now branded his left arm, serving as the constant reminder of everything Draco had done wrong in his life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Looking himself over in the mirror, Draco saw a man plagued by all of the ‘what ifs’ and the incorrect decisions he made in life staring back at him. He had felt hollow for a long time, but he had begun to feel the spark that was his old self once again. Maybe it was because he felt he had a real purpose again, or maybe the reason was because of a certain someone re-entering his dreary life. Whatever it was, it strengthened the sense of self Draco had believed had been snuffed out long ago. Even if that was all he would be left with after this was all over, after they caught Bane Selwyn and brought the Legion to justice, Draco knew he would have this left within himself. Or at least, he hoped it would._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Taking a breath, Draco put on the brave face he mastered as a teenager as he left the safety of his room and headed towards the varying voices, the unmistakable shrill of Pansy’s laughter and the low pitch of Blaise’s rich voice interjecting between the sound of Potter’s echoing through the hallways of the Manor. With each step down the grand staircase under him, Draco tried not to think about what it would be like when Potter no longer had a reason to be here with him. Draco knew he could never have it all with the man, but this… this was something he would savor for as long as he could._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	7. A New Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woooooooooo man this was the longest chapter I've written yet! There's some mention of the abuse Harry experienced in the Dursley household near the end of the chapter, so if that's upsetting to you, be wary! (P.s. Ten points to whoever can get the small Star Wars reference I snuck in there, and it doesn’t include the title) Hope you all enjoy~!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment!

Harry had been too distracted by the animated conversation he was currently in the throws of with Zabini to notice when Malfoy made his grand entrance into the room. “You can’t sit there and tell me that you really think the Magpies are going to beat out the Harpies this year, there’s literally no way that could happen!” 

Zabini just smirked from the grand couch across from him. “Yes, I absolutely can.” Harry threw his hands up in frustration. Looking over to where Parkinson lingered by the fireplace, he thrust an accusatory finger at Zabini. “Is he always this insufferable to be around?”

That got a surprised and vivacious sounding laugh out of her, the sound bouncing off of the marble walls that encased the open room around them. “Oh believe me, this is him being tame. He’s normally far more intolerable.”

“What’s going on in here?” Malfoy inquired, placing himself at the center of attention as strolled to sit next to Zabini. Harry avoided the blonde’s questioning look, opting to just close his eyes and lay his head back against the silken surface of the armchair he was currently residing in, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Zabini has horrid taste in quidditch teams and won’t listen all to reason. I’ve been trying for the last half hour to no avail.” 

“Ah, I see. Sorry to tell you Potter, but you were already fighting an impossible battle with that one.” Malfoy revealed, a warm familiarity in his voice that took Harry by surprise. He opened his eyes and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Malfoy, waiting for further explanation. “Years of friendship have already taught me how fruitless it is trying to get this one to listen to anything remotely close to reason.” he laughed, before shoving Zabini’s shoulder with his own playfully, igniting some sort of game of roughhouse between the two. Parkinson called out a warning, something about watching out for the breakables when things started to escalate into a full blown pillow fight, cushions costing more than Harry’s whole flat flying this way and that in the air, but her words were drowned out by the antics and laughter of the two Slytherins in front of him. In a span of a few seconds, Malfoy had commandeered the couch he had been on while Zabini made way to Harry had been sitting, Parkinson’s place by the fireplace in between them acting as some sort of no man’s land.

Harry could only look on at the scene in sheer amazement, he felt like he had stumbled into another universe. Sure, something like this wouldn’t be considered out of the norm to Harry, but it wasn’t like he was at the Burrow, getting roped into one of the many fights the Weasley siblings started amongst themselves. This was Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, for Merlin’s sake, who were the bloody picture of propriety that he assumed all Slytherins conducted themselves like. Made up of all sorts of unfriendly things, sharp edges and cold, univiting tones. Not things like pillow fights and gleeful laughter.

A burst of laughter escaped him when Malfoy got a facefull of a dark, satin pillow thrown quite expertly by Zabini’s hand. It was a wonder Slytherin hadn’t played for his house’s quidditch team, he’d have been a formidable Beater with that aim. But before he could continue his thought, Malfoy had reared back and pelted the thing straight towards Harry’s face. His reflexes kept proving themselves incredibly useful, even after his days as Seeker had long since ended. Harry was able to catch the thing effortlessly, much to Malfoy’s immense displeasure and Zabini’s audible delight. A triumphant grin split across Harry’s face. 

“Two against one, how is that at all fair?” Malfoy whined, ducking from another onslaught of airborne pillows. 

“Fair? You’re just mad that Potter teamed up with me and not you, Draco. Which was the more superior choice, I assure you.” Zabini winked at Harry, his blinding white smile flashing across the man’s dark face, leaving Harry momentarily at a loss for words. So the rumors had been told in truth, Zabini really _could _charm the pants off of anyone. Harry could now see why so many students, both girls and boys, back at Hogwarts had a thing for him. If he didn’t keep himself in check, he himself might start to have a thing for Zabini as well.__

__

__“Boys, boys, enough of this foolishness.” Parkinson said sternly, arching an eyebrow in Malfoy and Zabini’s direction, looking like a dissatisfied mother figure scolding her children in public. The two in question grumbled as they made their way back to their seats. Harry thought for a moment how incredibly it all reminded him of a similar situation between him, Ron, and Hermione._ _

__“Anyway, back to what we were discussing previously. In truth, you’ve surprised Potter. Here I was thinking you’d be far more keen on the Cannon’s chances this year,” Pansy cocked her head to the side, looking at Harry like he was a puzzle for her to figure out, “considering your relationship with their star Chaser, the she-Weasley.”_ _

__“Ginny, you mean?” he offered, a knowing feeling emerging inside of him on where she was going with this._ _

__“Yes, that one. Do forgive me for not remembering her name, there are honestly so many of those Weasleys that I never can remember them all at once.” Parkinson added, a small smile on her lips._ _

__“Don’t humor her with an answer, Potter. She’s just desperate for some sort of gossip.” Malfoy piped up, looking at Parkinson rather crossly._ _

__“Oh shove it up yours, Draco. It’s an honest question.” she retorted before sticking her tongue out at Malfoy, then looked back at Harry. “So? Has there been a falling out with you and the Weasley clan?”_ _

__“Erm, no? They’re still like family to me.” he replied awkwardly, not liking how focused she was on him, “Ginny and I broke up awhile back, if that’s what you were trying to get at.”_ _

__Parkinson’s eyes lit up and her smile widened, not unlike that of a cat who just caught itself a rat, and shot a quick glance towards Zabini and Malfoy. “Oh, how _dreadful _.” her voice gleeful, the total opposite of what she replied. Zabini coughed, as if he was trying to cover up his laughter, as Malfoy rose from his seat. “Enough of this nonsense. I certainly have no time for this anymore.” Making for the open doorway behind them, Malfoy looked back to Harry. “If you’ll follow me, Potter, we can discuss what you’ve come here about in private.” Harry scrambled to his feet ungracefully to follow, throwing a quick goodbye to Zabini and Parkinson.___ _

____“So you two can have a pillow fight with Potter, but I can’t have my own fun with him?” called Parkinson, sounding rather affronted. Malfoy only responded by throwing up the bird at her over his head before disappearing down one of the hallways leading out of the living room._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____\-----------------_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Fearing that he would lose his way in this maze of a house, Harry practically had to jog to keep up with the pace Malfoy was going at. The blonde suddenly stopped in front of an ominous looking door, the dark wood that ordained it contrasting greatly with the light marble surrounding that Harry saw was a continuing decorative theme throughout the house. It seemed brighter and a different building all together since the last time he walked its halls. He wondered for a moment if that was the intended effect as he looked at Malfoy, whose jaw was set rather rigidly. Harry knew all too well what is was like to live in a house that had too many bad memories and felt a little put out by the fact that Malfoy was able to stick it out and stay living in it while Harry just gave up._ _ _ _

____Peering around, he noted that they had been standing in the same spot as Harry had been wrapped up in his own head, Malfoy staring blankly at the door handle in front of him. “Shouldn’t we be, um I don’t know, going in?” he offered, giving the blonde an odd look._ _ _ _

____Malfoy blinked once, as if only just now coming back into reality. “Indeed,” he sighed, his hand hovering over the handle for a quick second. “Forgive my impertinence, this just happens to be my father’s old study. I haven’t opened it since… well, since both him and the Dark Lord were here.”_ _ _ _

____Harry nodded in quiet understanding. Though he didn’t really consider Malfoy a friend, maybe a forced acquaintance at very least, his empathy made it so Harry could easily imagine how difficult this situation was for the man. Malfoy opened the door slowly, as if he was half expecting something to pop out. “It was here where I used to spend most of my time during _his _stay, to escape it all for a fleeting moment and try to occupy my mind with… anything else.” his voice came out almost like a whisper, as if he still wasn’t sure about sharing this tidbit of information with Harry even as he spoke the words out loud.___ _ _ _

______Stepping inside, Harry looked about the room curiously. His attention was first caught by the grand looking desk that sat to his left, almost hidden entirely from view. It was nestled into the corner of the room illuminated by a singular window, overlooking the vast grounds that surrounded the estate outside. Harry peered outside for a quick moment, seeing a white peacock strutting about the gardens below. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the animal, it’s gate and proud manner of being reminding him greatly of his host. Turning around, he quickly glanced in the man in questions direction. He was hunched over, looking deep in thought and muttering to himself as he poured over the contents of a crude looking workstation, which was similar in size and features to those in the Potions classroom at Hogwarts. Malfoy either was purposefully ignoring Harry’s presence in the room, or the more probable explanation was that he had simply forgotten that Harry was even there with him, if the fervor in which he searched was any indication. Harry recognized that look, it was the same one Hermione wore when she brought her work home with her or was on another research bend. Both he and Ron had learned over the years to just leave her be until she pulled herself out of the haze, and he couldn’t help but conclude the same choice would be the right one to make now. Diverting his gaze away, his eyes focused on the desk in front of him, the contents and strewn papers on it catching his attention. For a room that hadn’t been open in years, according to Malfoy, it was strange that the objects in front of him looked as if they had just been set down moments before. Never one to be able to discard the temptation to quiet his notoriously rampant curiosity, one that got him into more trouble than he would like to admit to, Harry let his hands graze across the fine wood as he took a closer look. It didn’t take long for him to realize with who the items most likely belonged to, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it had been like at the moment that Malfoy’s father left._ _ _ _ _ _

______What had Lucius Malfoy been doing before he left this room of his for the very last time? What had he been writing on the loose pages? Could they have had been some last ditch effort to reach out to “friends” at the Ministry before his and his family’s trial? Was he trying to save his own skin, or had he been trying to save his wife and his son? Had he known what his future would’ve shaped into when he walked out of the door, or was he as ignorant to what fate had in mind for him as the rest of them? The majority of Harry’s feelings towards the man during his life had been ones consumed by quiet rage, but in this moment he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy._ _ _ _ _ _

______He had read through the papers and the case files surrounding the elder Malfoy’s death after hearing the news from Malfoy. It was a vicious and terrible death, the gory details about his murder almost being too much for even _him _to get through. If someone had asked what his opinion was years before, Harry would have simply stated that the man deserved whatever it was that was coming to him… but that wasn’t the case now. Lucius Malfoy was most definitely not the best of men, but he wasn’t the absolute worst either.___ _ _ _ _ _

________Thinking back on what the case file on him had, it resembled more of a list of what was _left _behind of the once great Lucius Malfoy rather than being an actual, comprehensible open case with suspects and possible motive… Gritting his teeth, Harry couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied with the effort put into it by the Aurors in charge. No one deserved that kind of ending, let alone have it just be swept under the bureaucratic rug and filed away because the victim wasn’t that well liked anymore. Harry felt an overwhelming amount of pity for the man who used to occupy the room he now stood in, its very existence acting as the reminder of Lucius Malfoy’s once present humanity. Remembering Dumbledore’s words about pitying the dead, a strong resolution formed itself in his mind. Making a silent oath to himself, Harry decided that once things were over with the Legion and Bane Selwyn, he would personally investigate Lucius Malfoy’s murder. He just couldn’t, and _wouldn’t _, stand by and let justice be overlooked like this. Feeling slightly less guilty about things, Harry shook off the fog of emotion that engulfed his mind and tore his gaze away from the desk._____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The next thing he noticed was the sheer enormity in size of the library the study contained. The thick bookshelves that lined the walls behind him seemed to reach all the way to the ceiling, tomes upon tomes of ancient looking scriptures packed together immaculately. Harry’s neck was craned back all the way just trying to take everything in, thinking how jealous Hermione would be of him right now. _What she would do to get her hands on some of these books _…___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Malfoy’s voice ushered him back into reality, the man calling him over as he hauled piles upon piles of paper onto the workstation with a resounding _thump _. “Potter! Enough snooping and come over here.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________As Harry made his way over, Malfoy accio-ed different jars of ingredients that lined the walls behind him and pulled a crude looking cauldron out from someplace hidden from Harry’s view.  
“If you couldn’t tell, this was the birthplace of my more expertise practice of potion making. I normally wouldn’t touch the equipment you see here with a ten-foot-pole, but we don’t have a lot of options at the moment.” Malfoy sighed, wistfully looking past Harry to what he could only assume was the direction of the blonde’s lab. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Er, are you sure you don’t need to clean that up first?” Harry asked, finding a spot to lean against so he could get a better look at what was happening on the table._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Malfoy only waved him off, his focus directed on rifling through the papers he had in front of him. “The house elves are currently in charge of that. It should be back to shape in a day or two, but I know that time is not on our side at the moment.” Harry nodded in agreement, a question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Deciding against saying anything though, he ended up just biting his lip. Malfoy looked up from his search and quirked an eyebrow in his direction, “If you have something to say, Potter, by no means don’t hold back on my account. I thought we were past this behavior.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Harry just rolled his eyes, ignoring the flutter in his stomach from Malfoy’s use of _we _. “I was just going to ask what all of this was,” he revealed, gesturing to the contents in front of him.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Ah,” replied Malfoy, “well this brilliance before us is all of my notes I’ve made over the months since I’ve been working on this case for the Minister.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Harry stood straighter, his confusion rising. “Wait, didn’t you say before that what you had went up in flames in that explosion?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Malfoy looked at him incredulously, like he was a child who had just asked a question with a clearly obvious answer. “Any competent Potions Master knows to have copies of his notes on hand in case of something unfortunate befalling the originals, like with my mishap earlier this afternoon. Thankfully, I had the foresight to spell my notes years ago to create copies in this room. Aha!” he exclaimed as he pulled a couple papers free from the stack, his sudden change in pitch making Harry jump. “This is what I was looking for. Now let’s hope I have extras of the more important ingredients here as well…” Malfoy scurried past Harry and ran to the shelves, ghosting his fingers over each one as he scanned the shelves until he found what it was he was looking for. “Once again, I impress myself.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“And what exactly is _that _?” Harry wondered aloud, only familiar with normal potion ingredients.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“This,” replied Malfoy, a suspicious glint in his eye, “is the key to unlocking what it is the Legion have been trying to cook up behind closed doors. Asphodel, or the powdered root of asphodel to be more exact.” Malfoy then continued setting everything up as he had been before, as if that was a good enough answer to Harry’s question. If anything, it made everything even more confusing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“And that’s important because? I thought it was a relatively non-lethal ingredient.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“To the untrained eye, yes. But in the context of our little murderous friends, think of it as the key to a coded message. Without it, the whole thing is gibberish and impossible to crack. But, once figure out the exact amount they’ve used to create their hybrid potions, I’ll be able to shine a light on how all the others work.” Malfoy explained, the condescending tone in his voice replaced by actual passion for what he was talking about._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________For the first time in his life, Harry witnessed what Malfoy was like when the blonde was utterly _fascinated _with something. Even as he was all hunched over, long strands of white blonde hair falling in his eyes, Malfoy in that moment was incredibly attractive to Harry and made his heart beat a little faster.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Their conversation halted to a stop after that, Malfoy completely engulfed by the work in front of him while Harry stood and watched, his eyes following each movement of Malfoy’s hands. After a few minutes past like this, Harry couldn’t help but begin to fidget. And when that stopped being effective, he began to pace about the room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Quit moving about Potter, you’re distracting me.” Malfoy muttered, one hand tracking his place in his notes while the other dropped some sort of clear looking liquid into the cauldron._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Sorry,” he apologized, “I just don’t do well in small spaces for a long time.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Malfoy looked up from his work and quizzically lifted an eyebrow at him. Crossing his arms anxiously, Harry muttered a curse to himself and resumed his original position of looming over Malfoy’s workstation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Poor Potter, can’t handle being uncomfortable for a short while. How does it feel to not be pampered for once?” Malfoy teased, a sinister smirk unfolding on his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“I’ve had my fill of being uncomfortable for a lifetime.” he snapped back, feeling his anger begin to rise. His hands itched to grab his wand and Confrigo something, at least then he would be _doing something _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Malfoy scoffed and averted his gaze back down to his work, his long pale fingers now expertly cutting up some herb and separating the pieces into two piles in front of him. “As if the pride and joy of the wizarding world and Dumbledore’s favorite would know what’s like to be uncomfortable like the rest of us plebeians. How could you? You must have known from the very beginning how important you were.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Harry glanced up and looked into Malfoy’s face, wondering if the man was actually serious or not. But the blonde’s face gave way to no emotion, yet his voice had held something akin to… jealousy? Looking back down to Malfoy’s hands, Harry let out a steadying breath. His nerves always got the best of him when the topic arose to how he had grown up, his stomach dropping to the floor and his throat growing tight. He hadn’t talked about it to anyone really, even Ron and Hermione just knew that he wasn’t close with this living relatives and avoided talking about them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“It was the opposite, actually.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Malfoy’s hands stilled, their form hovering above the table’s surface. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, but he pushed the anxiety he felt to the back of his mind. It wasn’t like he could just casually change the subject now, especially since Malfoy’s continued silence meant the blonde was waiting on further explanation from him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“I didn’t actually know about who I was, or that I was a wizard, until my eleventh birthday when my letter from Hogwarts showed up. And even then half of me didn’t quite believe it.” Harry shot a quick glance up from where he kept his gaze trained and was surprised to find that Malfoy seemed to be hanging on every word that out of Harry’s mouth. His rapt attention spurred Harry on to continue with a newfound sense of clarity._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“I grew up in the house of my Muggle relatives, my mother’s sister and her family to be exact, and they made sure to let me know about how much I was a burden on them and how grateful I should be since they took me in as often as they could.” Harry half-heartedly laughed, thinking back to all the times Uncle Vernon sneered in his face, the pig-like man’s spit flying about each time. “As it turns out, I was literally left on their doorstep to care for the night both of my parents were killed by Voldemort. And I believed them, about being a burden and whatever nasty things they told me. I even started thinking I _deserved _how they treated me…..” Harry felt his eyes glaze over as he looked at nowhere in particular, reliving all the memories of his childhood in full force. After a moment, he looked back and met Malfoy’s hard gaze and found the strength to continue his story.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“Do you know why I don’t like small spaces? It’s cause my bedroom, or really just the place I slept, for most of my life was in the spare cupboard under the stairs. Nothing I had ever really belonged to me, all my clothes and belongings were whatever my cousin Dudley decided to throw away. Back then, getting a new shirt or sweater was the highlight of my month, even if it had holes or was too thin to realistically wear.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________His hands began to feel clammy as he kept talking, small shots of pain registered as his hands gripped his arms tighter and tighter. But it was like someone unknown force had opened the gates, and all of his words and things he’s wanted to reveal about himself began rushing out. He couldn’t stop._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“A majority of the chores were my responsibility and the punishment would be severe if I didn’t do them to my uncle’s liking. If you think about it, I was no more than a glorified house-elf for them,” Harry remarked to himself, now that he was thinking about it out loud. No wonder he grew so close to Dobby._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“They didn’t necessarily physically abuse me, but keeping meals from me was their preferred tactic of punishment. I used to go days without food, sometimes even weeks if I had really made them mad. And my cousin, Dudley, thought tormenting me like shoving me down the stairs and breaking a few bones every now and then was his favorite past-time. What I’m getting at, I guess, is that I grew up feeling the opposite of special. Even now, years after I found out what my life would look like and what destiney I was supposed to live up to, part of me can’t help but think that it’s all just a lie…” he whispered the last part, not having ever admitted that sentiment to anyone. It was such a deep rooted fear of his, that everything he had come to hold dear now, would somehow be snatched away from him and he would just be left as the same broken boy he was before this all started._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“Merlin, Potter…” Malfoy breathed, “that was _dreadful _.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Alright, I get it Malfoy. Boo hoo, my life was sad. There’s no need to rub it in,” Harry spat, suddenly feeling very defensive and exposed. He mentally chastised himself, maybe this _was _a bad idea, sharing his dark past with someone he hated for a majority of his life. He should have just kept his stupid mouth shut.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“No, you misunderstand me completely. That’s a truly terrible way to grow up.” Malfoy amended, moving from his place behind the table and walking towards Harry’s closed off form. “And here I was thinking all this time that you were just this pompous arsehole who had the world handed to him on a golden platter. Turns out, the arsehole was me…” Shame clouded Malfoy’s face, and Harry was utterly dumbstruck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“It’s far too late for this, but I’m sorry, Potter. For the way I treated you in school. Though, it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve it later on,” he joked, sounding more nervous than Harry had ever heard him sound before, “but apologies all the same.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Malfoy stuck out a hand towards Harry, a scene similar to years ago when they were both boys standing on the steps outside of the Great Hall waiting to be sorted. “Maybe this can be our chance to let bygones be bygones, let the past die. So, what do you say?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Harry’s body moved before he had a chance to think, and he gripped Malfoy’s hand tightly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________It may have taken years and endless fights later, but for once Harry was glad he had taken Malfoy’s offered hand of friendship. The two men stared back at each other’s eyes for a small moment, their hands connected, neither one aware of how much electricity the other felt from the contact._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________A wicked grin split across Draco’s face. “Now, let’s get to work.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	8. The Game Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Plot begins to happen! Also, some slight flirting ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhhhhh my god it's been so long since I've updated this (IM SO SORRY) 
> 
> writer's block is a bitch, y'all. but I pushed through it, so hip hip hurray. time to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. 
> 
> please comment and/or leave kudos, it really pushes me and motivates me to write faster, I greatly appreciate them.

It had been four weeks since Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter found themselves coerced into actively coexisting together, and neither would ever admit out loud how _well _the new situation worked, surprising as it was. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat back into his office chair, the smile on his face displaying only a fraction of the smugness that filled his entire being. If not for the secrecy of the whole project, he would feel no shame in taking the case file and wagging it in the other department head’s faces. The efficiency in which they worked was incredible, making leaps and strides in both cases whereas before only the smallest steps had been taken. Individually, the two were experts in their field and were a credit to the Ministry. Yet together, what they could accomplish could be extraordinary.__

__Shacklebolt had known they would be a force to be reckoned with. The newly expanded file on the Legion case was proof enough; together they were finding connections and leads that wouldn’t have been found otherwise. He chided himself for not thinking doing this earlier. Potter being ignorant of pureblood methods and their slippery tactics, Malfoy not being able to recognize muggle ingredients and usage in the potions… of course neither of them were able to make considerable breaks in their assignments before this. Despite it all, Kingsley couldn’t help but let his mind wander. If they were able to make this much progress in the case despite loathing the other’s existence, what were the possibilities between them if they actually liked each other?_ _

__“Watch yourself there, Kingsley,” he muttered to himself, looking out his office window towards the always bustling walkways of Diagon Alley. “It’s best to not get too involved. You’re starting to act a bit too much like your old friend Albus.”_ _

__“And is that necessarily a bad thing?” remarked one of the newer portraits on the wall, it’s voice holding a hint of amusement. Kingsley turned and let his gaze fall onto the painted face of Albus Dumbledore, a man whose life was as tragic as it was great._ _

__“Depends, I haven’t quite decided yet,” he sighed, the weight of the responsibility of being the Minister of Magic truly beginning to take its toll on him. “My priorities lie elsewhere. It’s better to not get attached.”_ _

__“A trying time this is for you indeed,” Albus hummed, a hand stroking his famous long white beard pensively, a twinkle emerging behind his spectacles. “Yet, attachments like those are what make us truly human. Even the greatest of leaders needed someone to lean on once in awhile. It’s quite exhausting having everyone depend on you.” he quipped, the unexpected dry humor eliciting a chuckle from Kingsley._ _

__“That it is..” he admitted, his mind wandering to the Boy Who Lived. Kingsley had only been in office for a little over two years, yet Harry Potter had been dealing with the burden that was carrying the hopes and dreams of ordinary wizarding people since he was a child. He couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty; he was, in fact, one of those very wizards who willingly placed the burden on the boy’s shoulders. No doubt that the added familiarity he now had with Harry over the last few years made his guilt all the more real. It was easy to dismiss how one’s actions affected someone else if you never knew them. The Boy Who Lived wasn’t a real person, he was a legend people whispered to their children about as they fell asleep, their dreams filled with images of his heroic deeds. Kingsley didn’t know _him _, someone who became more of a myth than human with each passing day. All he knew was the man Harry Potter became after the war, and the haunted, faraway look that sometimes shadowed his eyes. A sight like that was rare, but when it did happen, Kingsley was all too aware of it and who, in turn, was partly responsible for it. The knowledge was a heavy weight to carry, but he knew that his affliction was minimal compared to Harry’s.___ _

____Maybe this time around, Harry Potter won’t be so alone. Perhaps he will be able to let someone else help carry the load. No one could hold all of that sEven Atlas needed a break every once in awhile. That person could be him, or perhaps one of the many Weasley’s Harry is known to hang around, or maybe... just maybe, it could be Draco Malfoy._ _ _ _

____“You don’t perchance have any lemon drops in here, do you?” Albus inquired, breaking the Minister’s train of thought._ _ _ _

____“Unbelievable. Even after death, your sweet tooth gets the best of you.” Rolling his eyes, Kingsley shot a knowing look to the portrait. Glancing at his pocket watch, Kingsley hurriedly sorted the necessary files into his arms before grabbing his cloak to leave. He’d lost track of the time as his inner ramblings got the best of him. Being late was something that Kingsley Shacklebolt was never known for, and that wasn’t about be altered now._ _ _ _

____“You know what the muggles say, ‘When life gives you lemons, you make lemon drops’.”_ _ _ _

____“I do believe it’s lemonade, Albus, not lemon drops,” he said as he passed the portrait, an amused smirk on his lips._ _ _ _

____“I’m quite sure they meant lemon drops, my dear boy.”_ _ _ _

____\-----------------------  
Draco Malfoy held his breath as he watched the silvery liquid in the cauldron simmer, the intense heat of the burner under it causing a slight film of sweat to form on his brow. The next few moments would lead to either victory or a rather disappointing defeat. According to his findings and hypothesis, if the potion’s color stayed the same and gave off the scent of pine, then he would have the final mystery potion’s recipe figured out. On the other hand, if something had gone array, then the color would turn to a dull rust. That outcome was slim considering Draco’s expertise, but being overconfident was a rampant disease in masters of potions that more often than not, lead to mistakes that of an amateaur. _ _ _ _

____After a few seconds, the bubbling liquid stayed consistent in its coloring, a pine scent beginning to rise with the steam. Draco let out a long breath, a rush of excitement washing over him. He had done it, finally, after a month of nothing but failure upon failures. Turning to gloat and undoubtedly revel in this breakthrough to his companion, he was met with the sight of Harry Potter fast asleep on one of the armchairs in his study, a little line of drool dripping from his slightly open mouth, his glasses laying on top of the report he must’ve been reading on the armrest._ _ _ _

____“Well that’s no fun,” he muttered, ignoring how endearing the sight really was. The piece of furniture itself was dastardly, a testament his late grandfather’s lamentable taste, and he normally couldn’t stand to look at it without sneering. Yet this time, Draco paid hardly any mind to the chair. All of his attention was focused on the man that it seated, looking every bit like he was at home in it._ _ _ _

____Potter had always been childish, but the git looked years younger when his brow wasn’t furrowed and his mouth no longer set in the hard line that seemed to only deepen these past few weeks. Taking a languid step closer, Draco allowed himself to have a moment simply to peer down at the man’s unguarded face. It was quite domestic, if he was being completely honest with himself, and the fact that Potter felt at ease enough to fall into such a vulnerable state with _him _only a few feet away sent a slight thrill through Draco.___ _ _ _

______Without his glasses, Potter’s face seemed youthful. He could almost glimpse the eleven year old he once tried so hard to impress. The only thing that marked the passage of time was the longer mop of black curls he possessed, their twisted ends nearly touching his shoulders, and the slight crinkles that were beginning to form at the corner of his eyes. Draco wasn’t surprised at that development, Potter’s grin always did seem to encapsulate his whole face and light up whatever room he was in. He wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of one of those smiles._ _ _ _ _ _

______In school, he had witnessed plenty of Potter’s blinding grins, always directed at one of his many Gryffindor friends, their boisterous manner inwardly directing all sorts of attention to them. Maybe he was envious, maybe he was just finding any sort of excuse to hate Potter, but Draco always found himself annoyed by it all.The worst part was when Draco saw Potter gift one of those smiles to whichever girl the git fancied. Albeit, it did give him some satisfaction to see the Chang girl decline Potter’s advances, but that was forgotten by the time Potter turned his gaze to the youngest Weasel, who looked back at him with a wide grin of her own._ _ _ _ _ _

______Draco remembered how he felt after the Battle of Hogwarts, already an absolute mess after everything that had happened. His mother had her pale hands gripped around his shoulders, practically dragging him away from the rubble with his father in tow. Draco wasn’t sure why, but he had felt compelled to look back at the school he once called home, and that was when he saw it. He had been thankful then for his mother’s iron grip, or else his legs might have given way under him. As always, Potter had been there in the center of the crowd, but this time he wasn’t alone. Draco saw Potter and the girl come together in an embrace, each of them kissing the other with almost feral feverence. It wasn’t a long moment, and he doubted anyone else saw him witness it, but Draco had felt his heart crack down the middle, leaving only a crumbled mess in its wake. It was then that he knew, _really_ knew, about how he felt towards Harry Potter. Draco had looked away from the couple then, letting a single tear fall down his dust ridden face not able to stand the sight of it anymore. _ _ _ _ _ _

______It was then that he knew, _really_ knew, about how he felt towards Harry Potter. He also knew that he was far too late. As always, Draco wanted something that he could never truly have, and it absolutely crushed him._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______That had been years ago, and Draco was enough of an adult to set aside his personal feelings in order to do what was necessary. It couldn’t hurt to reopen those old wounds and dwell on them, even just for a moment. Like right now.  
Without realizing it, he had leaned in so much that his face was practically inches away from Potter’s. Had his eyelashes always been that long and full? And the slight dusting of freckles across his nose, were those new or had they been there all along and he just hadn’t noticed? Draco continued to lower his gaze until he came upon Potter’s lips. They were quite full and pink in color, looking positively sinful and heavenly all at the same time. Draco wondered what it would be like to kiss them. It was at that moment that the prat decided to open his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What… are you doing, Malfoy?” Potter said slowly, his voice almost a whisper, still thick from sleep. Draco’s stomach, and cock, gave a little jump._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Merlin’s teeth _, he thought, _I could listen to that all day _. But he could dwell on the utter deliciousness that was Potter’s voice when roused from sleep at a later time, because the owner of those lips was still waiting on an explanation.____ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Assessing the damage.” he deadpanned, relieved that his voice seemed steadier than he was. Draco was using every ounce of self control that he possessed to keep his face in a trained neutral expression as he continued to loom over the man. If he stepped away now, it would seem like he was conceding. Draco didn’t like to lose, so he remained where he was, his feet practically rooted to the spot. Also, he was immensely enjoying the fact that his close proximity to Potter was clearly unnerving the man._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“W-what?” he asked, his hands scrambling to put his glasses back on. Draco didn’t miss how Potter’s eyes had darted to _his_ own lips before glancing away. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Interesting_. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You were drooling, and doing a thorough job of it. Look for yourself,” he said, pointing past Potter’s head to where a damp spot now resided in the darkly colored fabric.“It’s beyond salvaging now, I’ll have to throw the whole thing out.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Draco let out a wistful sigh, feigning disappointment. Messing with Potter never ceased to entertain._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh fuck, sorry Malfoy. I didn’t even mean to fall asleep.” Potter groaned, running an exasperated hand through his hair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“After a while these reports begin to sound all the same. I must’ve nodded off. Look, let me pay for it. You can have it sent to be cleaned or whatev-” Draco stuck out a hand, stopping Potter mid sentence. The man’s cheeks were beat red, and Draco had an inkling that it wasn’t from the heat from the fireplace._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“It’s fine, really, Potter.” he said truthfully, winking at the man before turning to head back to his desk. “In truth, your less than favorable sleeping habits have done me a favor. I’ve been looking for a reason to get rid of this thing for ages.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Potter mumbled something in reply as he rose from his seat, shuffling his papers (no doubt in an effort to look busy), but Draco paid no mind to it, deciding that he should leave the man with at least some of his dignity intact._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Grinning to himself, Draco began to get back to work, his desk now in between him and Potter. He started drained the new potion from its cauldron to a more permanent residence in one of the many experimental vials he kept on hand for situations such as this. When dealing with potions, one can never be too careful. Just as he was corking the vial, Potter made his approach and stood opposite of him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“My sleeping habits aside, you seem rather pleased with yourself.” Potter remarked, quirking an eyebrow in Draco’s direction as he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans. Draco watched as the man raked over the contents of his desk with curiosity._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What does this look like to you, Potter?” he questioned, sliding his still bubbling potion over to Potter, careful to jostle it too much._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Potter eyed it, before glancing back at Draco, making no move to touch it. “Uhhh, a potion?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Miraculous, ten points to Gryffindor.” Draco rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to smack his head against the nearest hard surface. “I meant, what do think it is? Use your Auror skills, Potter, I’m sure there in that head of yours somewhere.” Placing his elbows on the table in front of him, Draco propped his head on his hands as he waited for the boy wonder to cooperate._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Potter guffawed at his statement, his green eyes sparkling as he took Draco’s bait. He leaned against the desk’s marble edge to meet with Draco’s gaze, and maintained fierce eye contact as he went to further inspect the potion, only breaking it at the very last second before directing all of his attention to the potion._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Seeing how delicately you handled it before, I’d guess this has something to do with those pesky potions the Legion has been creating.” Potter reasoned, looking back at Draco smugly. He seemed… almost playful._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Draco felt his trousers begin to tighten as his mind began to fill with all sorts of dirty images. Potter was oblivious to it, but that whole scenario matched too well to a fantasy of Draco’s that involved that same hungry gaze of Potter’s attuned to something _else_ in Draco’s possession._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“My, what incredible deduction skills you have there, Potter.” Draco teased, trying to keep his quickly growing erection at bay. “Maybe one day you’ll even use them to become Head Auror.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Not likely,” Potter shrugged as he straightened, crossing his arms in the process, looking as casual and as nonchalant as ever. “But seriously, did you actually manage to figure it out this time?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It was now Draco’s turn to guwaff, taking slight offence at Potter’s insinuation. “Is that so surprising?” At his silence, Draco snatched back the potion and stashed it away on one of his shelves for further testing on a later day, directing one of his infamous glares in the Gryffindor’s direction the whole time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh come off it, Malfoy,” Potter groaned. “I just want to make sure it’s the real thing before getting my hopes up. Remember two weeks ago, when you thought you pieced it all together? Look at how well _that_ turned out.” _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Draco gritted his teeth at the memory. He had been so sure that he had gotten it right, and was in the midst of telling Potter so when the potion bubbled over and started warp. The study had smelled ghastly for a full three days after._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No need to remind me of my failure, Potter, I recall it well.” Draco spat out, feeling defensive. “At least _I_ have something to show for all the time we’ve spent on this case together.”  
Potter’s face darkened slightly at Draco’s comment, and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. “Low blow there, Malfoy.” he said after a moment, turning back in the direction of his papers. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________An awkward silence spread between them, until Draco eventually made his way over to the armchair adjacent to Potter’s in a silent forfeit._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That was rude of me, I apologize.” he said quietly, keeping his gaze directed at the flickering flames before them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“‘S fine, Malfoy,” Potter sighed, rubbing his eyes. “It’s not like your wrong.”  
Neither of them wanted to admit it, but they were both frustrated beyond belief with their joint lack of results. It made for a sometimes tumultuous atmosphere between the two men._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Every time I think I have finally got Selwyn pinned down, with something to officially connecting him to the Legion, the bastard _always_ slips away. He’s consistently two-steps ahead of me.” Potter admitted, his voice sounding exhausted. They sat there for a moment, both pondering on what to do next when a giant crash erupted from behind them. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Both men jumped up, their wands at the ready, when they were met with the largest and ugliest looking Kneazle Draco had ever seen in his entire life. It’s grey mangy fur was matted in places, and it was large as a small house elf._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What the bloody hell is that?” Draco hollered, pointing to the demonic looking thing. The cat looked back at him and snarled, revealing all four teeth it had. Draco almost let out a sneer in response. The bloody animal had somehow apparated on top of one of his stacks of cauldrons, the clatter being the cause for the earlier eruption._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh, fuck me…” Potter exclaimed as he lowered his wand, his face draining of color. The Kneazle was emitting all sorts of dastardly sounds as it made it’s way over to Potter, pawing the man’s legs with intent._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Gladly, but you’ll need to explain what the hell is happening first.” Draco replied, still eyeing that monstrosity of an animal that was undoubtedly shedding all over his floor. “It’s acting as if it knows you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That’s because it does.” Potter sighed, bending over to pick the cat up and hold it in his arms. “This is Tibbs. Tibbs, this is Draco Malfoy.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Draco blinked. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tibbs. Now that introductions have been made, what the absolute _fuck_ is Tibbs doing here?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Potter made no move to answer Draco, instead lowering his head as he whispered something in the feline’s ear before dropping it back to the floor, Tibbs landing with a resounded thud.  
“Grab a coat, Malfoy, you’ll need it for where we’re going.” Potter said somberly, a dark expression on his face. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Draco made no effort to move as Potter rushed about around him gathering his own things, as if what he said was somehow a sufficient amount of information to illuminate on what was happening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Hurry up, Malfoy! We don’t have time to waste.” Potter yelled, the urgency behind his voice surprising Draco._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You have yet to tell me why that thing,” he said, pointing to the cat as it began scratching the leg of one of the arm chairs, “is doing here? There are wards in place to prevent this type of thing happening, so pardon me if I’m a tad bit confused.” Potter pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed. It wasn’t like he was the only one._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Tibbs is the familiar to one of my agents, Henry Yates, who was tasked with keeping an eye on Selwyn’s movements. He’s been undercover for weeks now.” Potter explained, his voice clipped, as he shrugged on his dark muggle coat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“And that’s important, how?” Draco was still not seeing how any of that made sense and was a cause for urgency._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Because Tibbs will only ever leave Yates’ side if he’s been attacked, or worse,” Potter said, eyeing Draco gravely. “It means Selwyn and the Legion has made their next move.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Draco went to grab his coat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
